


Peculiar Flowers

by plantsandstars



Series: Origins [1]
Category: Critical Role
Genre: Body Image Insecurity, F/M, Love Story, Origin Story, Pre-Campaign
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 13:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21819799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantsandstars/pseuds/plantsandstars
Summary: Exploring Nott’s backstory, how she met Yeza, and how they fell in love.
Relationships: Veth Brenatto/Yeza Brenatto
Series: Origins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572277
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Peculiar Flowers

Veth Brenatto was used to not looking in the mirror. She was used to touching her skin with hesitation, with shame. She was used to feeling like an ugly thing, something no one could love, something no one could like.

But, she had never felt so completely disgusting as on that night. That horrible night when the storm raged, her tormentors laughed, and the water decided her fate. It was a night that would go down in history.

The night they played spin-the-bottle, all the boys and girls who laughed at her behind her back, now drunk enough to do so to her face. She straightened her back, catching herself slouching again, and eyed the boy she was supposed to kiss. 

His hair was curly and brown. He had a nervous smile. Glasses too large for his face. He didn’t seem to be upset that the bottle had landed on him, but she had never been good at realizing boys weren’t interested in her. She had learned that the hard way. 

She had grown though, from the little girl who wished for the cute boys, or funny boys, or mean, nice, happy, sad boys to like her, into a young woman who didn’t care for that. At all. 

And that’s why she had devised a plan to get a kiss, see how disappointing it was, and then live her life without wanting for any of that. It wasn’t the most thought-out plan, but her determination was unwavering.

She looked at the boy, Yeza, and sighed. She wanted to close her eyes but there was something about his face that just made her want to keep looking at him. The way his eyes sparkled, his mouth moved, his hair bounced as he brought his face closer to hers. She felt her entire chest in her throat. She felt like she was going to throw up.

And then she felt soft lips on hers, and everything else sort of faded away. For a split second, but then she felt all eyes on her, and her chest in her throat, and the all-consuming and panicked voice in her head who screamed at her to hide.

She told the kids she had to use the bathroom the next chance she got, and hurried away. She thought she felt his eyes, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was a reminder of everything she couldn’t really have, so she went to the bathroom and retched. Then, she went home.

Through the tumultuous storm, rain beating her raincoat, boots splashing in puddles and mud. She reached the large Brenatto house and crept through the back door. Her brothers loud in the other room, roughousing with each other. She removed her boots and climbed the stairs, quiet as a mouse, and retreated to her room.

Under her raincoat, her dress was still wonderfully dry. The dark brown reminded her of the woods, especially since the edges were hemmed with deep forest green. Colorful orange and warm red patterns were embroidered through out. She had haphazardly sewn in tiny black buttons and knobs across the bottom and along the waist. Carefully, she untied the matching green ribbon from her hair and placed the outfit gently into a mahogany case that rested on top of her dresser. 

She closed the latches and pushed the case underneath her bed, exchanging it for three boxes that were hiding there. In one, she had a rolled up and silky white nightgown that used to belong to her mother. It was big, the only one she had found that could fit her. It’s lace was intricate, soft, comforting, and beautiful. She gingerly slipped into it.

In another box were piles of lacy ribbons and a vial of silver liquid. She braided her hair and tied it off with a white ribbon, and then moved to her vanity with the silver vial and the final box. The vanity was splashed with paint, almost like a sunset, and the mirror had long been removed and replaced with a board. Pinned to the board were wondrous items she had yet to make into a collection.

Currently, there were four things pinned up. A platinum coin, a forbidden religious idol (to be hidden when the crown’s guard came knocking), a magic ring, and a love note addressed to her. 

She settled into her chair and opened the navy lid of her final box. Inside were tiny, distorted versions of herself. Jagged, broken pieces of glass, tiny lockets with reflections, and an ornate handheld mirror. Veth carefully pulled out every mirror and shard, leaving the box empty.

She held the handheld mirror across from her face, and delicately touched every inch of it. Then, she placed the mirror down and poured the vial into her hand. The liquid did not act like a liquid. It moved in her hand like a sluggish thing, a sleepy spirit. She grasped the silvery substance and pressed it in every crevice and crack of her face.

This was a transformative substance, meant to be applied in small strokes to remove unwanted blemishes. However, under the influence of drink and melancholy and the deep yearning of youth, Veth foolishly hoped its magic would run deeper.

She closed her eyes and wished. To the stars, to the gods, to the merchant who had sold her the tiny thing. 

Before long, she held up her beautiful mirror, and stared into the eyes of a monster.

Her dark skin was ravished, torn, red and oozing. Silver slivers slipped off her face like rotten orange peels. She felt heat and flame burning her insides, and all she could do was scream. But she didn’t. She stared in horror at the face before her, mirror trembling in her hand, tears making quick paths down the ravines of her cheeks.

She thought of the boy, Yeza, as her eyes clouded over and a silent sob left her lips. The last person who would ever kiss her. Of course he _had_ to be beautiful. He _had_ to have a cute, shy way and a goofy smile. 

Now she was a grotesque thing. She would have to live in a tunnel or under a bridge, longing to not be alone but scaring off even the most intrepid people. She hid under her covers and cried until she fell into the clutches of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I related a lot to how Sam described Veth, so I started to think a lot about her backstory and then I really wanted to explore it. So, here goes! Hope you like it.


End file.
